


Puck, Ninja Warrior

by themillersson



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Ninja, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-20
Updated: 2010-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themillersson/pseuds/themillersson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck must use his nunchucks for something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puck, Ninja Warrior

Puck tightened his grip on his nunchucks and watched from the shadows as his target ambled down the street towards him. The man was middle aged, probably not in the best physical shape, and his job didn’t suggest that he’d be much of a challenge – a financier or something, according to the front page of the file he’d been given. Puck knew he’d get reamed out later for not actually reading more than the first page of the detailed report, which had probably taken hours of dedicated research to compile, but as long as he got the job done, it wouldn’t make any difference to his employer in the end, so why bother?

The man was getting closer. Puck tensed and got ready to spring out of the alley he’d ducked into. In about a minute, he would knock the man over the head, pull him in, and complete the job. He just needed to-

A thin, cold length of metal pressed against his throat at the same time a tiny blunt point made itself known against his spine. “What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” an icy voice hissed from behind him.

Puck froze. Normally, he’d be all for whipping around and knocking the intruder over the head without thinking twice, but if he hadn’t heard the person coming, he was dealing with someone who knew exactly what they were doing. “Loitering,” he shrugged nonchalantly, hoping that they could get this over with before his target drew level with them. “Mind getting your little sticks off me?”

“They’re called sai, you moron,” the voice said, and Puck swore it sounded weirdly familiar as it coolly continued, “and it looks to me like you’re loitering with intent of taking out my target.”

“The hell do you mean, ‘your target?’” Puck was overcome by a rush of indignation. Who was this douche (for all the stranger sounded like a chick, he was too tall for that and there was a disappointing lack of breasts against his back despite the proximity)? First he delayed him, then he insulted him, and now he was trying to move in on Puck’s job? That was so not on. “That guy’s mine!”

The point on his back pressed in harder. “I don’t know what kind of half-rate assassin you think you are, but I’ve been contracted to take that man in and I intend to do so. You can either leave peacefully or I can paralyze you from the waist down.” A quick jab between two vertebrae, with more force behind it than Puck had expected, emphasized the threat. “Your choice.”

Puck chanced a quick look down the street again. The man was about halfway to the alley, but had dropped something and seemed to be having trouble retrieving it. He looked drunk, which would hopefully make all of this easier once Puck dealt with the douche threatening him. Not that he was actually feeling threatened or anything, of course not, it was just that if he was paralyzed from the waist down, that would make his life really miserable. Although, he’d heard Artie could still get it up, so maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world after all. Maybe he should ask him how that worked someday. Huh.

The douche behind him cleared his throat, sounding inappropriately annoyed for a guy who’d just indirectly threatened Puck’s manhood. “Well?”

Right. The job. Puck considered his options and, as usual, thought, ‘what the hell’ and just went for it. He shoved an elbow backwards, catching the stranger in the ribs, and whirled around with his nunchucks swinging.

The stranger was dressed in some skintight black thing with black fabric covering most of his face, making him hard to see in the dark, but Puck saw the glint of the weapons – sai, apparently – as one swung toward him, the handle landing a hard blow on his collarbone. He choked on a curse and drew back, but was able to wrap the chain of his weapon around the next sai hilt to come near him, wrenching it from his opponent and flinging it away.

He was about to move in and attack properly when the stranger took advantage of his backswing and surged forward, hitting him in the solar plexus with the remaining sai’s handle. The force of the blow and the elbow that followed pushed him back against the wall he’d been lurking behind. In a movement too fast to register, the strange had whirled the sai around and now the thin point was resting against the hollow of his throat, right below the forearm pressed to his neck. Puck swallowed hard, still trying to get his wind back. He consoled himself that at least his opponent was breathing heavily, too.

“Are you going to back out now?” the douche asked, and even through the mask, Puck just knew he was smirking.

Puck narrowed his eyes but shrugged as best as he could. If he could get the stranger to lower his weapon, Puck knew he could take him. The other guy looked pretty small; speed was probably more his thing than strength. “Yeah, sure. The Cohens’ll have my ass for it, but whatever.”

“Wait, the Cohen family?” the douche snapped. Pale eyes widened behind the mask. “First, you’re an awful bounty hunter or assassin or whatever for giving away your employer, but second, the Cohens?” The androgynous voice was reaching dangerously squeaky levels.

Puck cursed quietly, he really needed to stop doing shit like that. “Yeah, what’s it to you?” he said, trying to pass it off as no big deal.

The pressure against his throat let up a little and the high voice laughed humorlessly. “I was contracted by the Cohens to catch this guy. I can’t believe they double-booked me.”

“Shit.” Puck let his head fall back against the wall, relaxing somewhat. “Forget ‘double-booking,’ I can’t believe they’re outsourcing. I was supposed to be their only guy for ninja-style abductions.”

The stranger sighed and let go of Puck completely, taking a few steps back and retrieving the second sai from where it had fallen. “If it’s any consolation, they tend to send me on assignments that require subtlety. Their daughter told me they had someone else to handle the brute force missions; I assume that’s you.”

When he thought about it, Puck didn’t know why he was surprised. It wasn’t as if Lima had enough people to support a large number of crime families. Honestly, it was weird enough that they had even the one branch. Puck blinked as something else registered. Their daughter? The douche knew Tina? He took a closer look at the stranger, who was still eyeing him and spinning one sai like it was a nervous habit, and almost groaned. Kurt Hummel. Between the voice and the condescension, how had he not guessed? It looked like there might even be sequins on the guy’s bodysuit. Worst. Ninja. Ever. (Puck willfully ignored the fact that Kurt had just sort-of-maybe kicked his ass a little. He wasn’t ready to deal with that yet. Maybe not in this lifetime, come to think of it.)

Kurt looked away from him long enough to glance out at the street and stopped twirling his sai at what he saw. “Our target’s almost here,” he hissed urgently, “let’s take him out now and discuss this later.” He backed further into the shadows and took up a battle-ready pose, glancing over at Puck expectantly.

Puck shrugged and nodded, wincing at the pain that lingered from the blows to his ribcage. “Fine.” Just as the man appeared at the mouth of the alley and they both sprang forward, Puck couldn’t resist adding, “Bet I can get him before you.”

He almost felt bad about that later, as the resulting competition meant that their target wound up with a major concussion, but whatever Kurt said about having landed the hit that actually knocked the guy out, Puck had gotten the first hit, and that meant he won. So it was worth it.

Even if Tina laughed at them both for the next week.


End file.
